


The Secret of the Taguel

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Exhibitionism, F/M, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, Non-Human Genitalia, Outdoor Sex, Parent/Child Incest, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22445641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Panne and Yarne are not quite sure how the relationship between a Taguel parent and their child is supposed to work, but surely it isn't supposed to be like this...?A very short fic, told in four parts.
Relationships: Chambray | Yarne/Velvet | Panne
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	1. C Support

“It is a shame that you are not a full-blooded Taguel.” The words had slipped out of Panne’s mouth before she could think better of them. But now that they had been said, she could not take them back. She flinched as Yarne glared at her, his bottom lip twitching into a pout.

Panne hadn’t intended for her words to be malicious. She had only meant that, at times, Yarne seemed less than Taguel. His hearing was not as acute, and he was not as adept at fighting. Moreover, he climbed in a clumsy, human manner.

Yarne whimpered, “It isn’t my fault. Maybe you should’ve found a Taguel to breed with instead of a human.”

Panne huffed, “If there had even been a half-blooded Taguel around when you were conceived, we would not be having this discussion.”

There was an awkward silence as the two of them considered her words, and their implication. 

“’If there had even been a half-blooded Taguel’?” Yarne echoed. His eyes had a curious gleam. “Does that mean…?”

An unasked question hung in the air. Both of them could sense it. The tent was charged with emotions. Fear. Intrigue. Arousal.

Panne cursed herself. “No, I—…Excuse me."

She left the tent, her thoughts racing. What had she done? What did it mean?

She shuddered, remembering the way his starved eyes had followed her as she left. The way he observed her had not been the way one watches their mother; it was the way one watches a potential mate.

Or the way one watches their prey.


	2. B Support

“Ah!” Panne stood on her tiptoes, struggling to reach the bag of wild herbs on top of the stack of wooden crates.

“Why would anyone put this here?” She asked herself, as her fingers brushed against the bag, but did not close around it.

She considered leaping on top of the boxes. It would be much quicker, but the last time she had done something of that nature, she had been scolded.

“It’s too dangerous!” Robin had exclaimed, as if Panne did not regularly fight on the battlefield. Panne scoffed. Man-spawn and their ridiculous customs.

“Mother?” 

Panne’s body stiffened.

“Yes?” She answered, without turning around.

She could feel Yarne approach her from behind. She could feel his body radiating heat as he pressed against her backside.

“Let me get that for you,” he said, reaching up above her head and swiping at the bag.

“I’ve almost got it!” he exclaimed, standing on his tiptoes. As he leaned forward, Panne could feel something hard brush against her bottom, against her tail.

She craned her neck to glance behind her. Was he holding something?

Yarne continued to grab at the bag. His body rubbed against hers. Her tail twitched. Even through her armor, she could feel his rigid muscles flexing against her back.

“Got it!” Yarne pulled the bag down and handed it to her.

“T-Thank you,” Panne stammered. Now that he had retrieved her bag, she expected Yarne to move, but he remained behind her, that hard object still digging into her bottom.

“Mother,” he squeaked.

Then, his hands were around her waist, pulling her back into him.

“What are you doing?!” She gasped. She was too surprised to react.

He snuggled his face against the back of her neck. “I’ve missed you. It’s been so hard, being the last remaining Taguel. So lonely.”

Panne furrowed her brow. She was well-acquainted with such sentiments. After the death of her warren, loneliness and grief had ripped through her. Hatred for humans had poisoned her mind and made her prejudiced against them. She could not forgive her future self for condemning this poor boy to feel the same emotions.

“I know,” she whispered. “I know.”


	3. A Support

Destruction. Screams. Cries. Death.

Panne’s eyes shot open. The images of her village being destroyed still haunted her, even after all this time. She considered making a cup of tea to calm her nerves, but decided to continue laying there in the hopes she could return to sleep. She rolled over and glanced at her husband. He was snoring, a blissful smile on his lips.

Her thoughts began to wander. They turned to Yarne. He had not seen his entire species slaughtered, as she had, but she was sure that he had seen some terrible sights as well. The future that he and the other children described had been violent and full of despair. Did he, too, suffer from nightmares?

Panne’s ears twitched. She could hear someone approaching her tent. Was it an enemy? She shut her eyes and focused all of her attention on the noise.

No. The footsteps were familiar. They sounded like her own.

He pulled aside the flap to her tent, and slipped in.

He said nothing as he approached her. He hovered above her face, observing her. She could hear his pulse, quick and erratic. It was obvious from his hammering heartbeat that he was doing something he should not do. Something illicit.

Panne heard the rustle of fabric, then, a whisper, “Mother.”

Next was a wet, sloppy noise, almost like when one walks through mud. Panne had never heard such a noise. She cracked open one eye and glanced at her son.

He stood at her bedside, his shorts around his ankles. He clutched his penis in his hand, and was running his fingers along the shaft. He appeared to have smeared some sort of fluid onto himself.

Her breath hitched, and she shut her eyes again. She did not think that was a Taguel custom. No, it must have been something he learned from the humans. What was he doing?

“Mother,” he moaned, leaning closer to her. “Panne.”

She could feel his tongue flick against her face, as though he was cleaning her. Then he jammed it between her lips and pushed it into her mouth.

She felt him wrap his fingers around her hand, and hold it against something warm and slick. He closed her fingers around the object, and slid her palm over it.

“Panne!” He exclaimed. Almost in an instant, she could feel a hot, sticky liquid seep through her fingers.

All was silent. Then, Yarne darted out of the room.

Her husband, with his dull human hearing, had not noticed a thing. He was still slumbering.

Panne sat up and examined the fluid splattered on her hand. She raised her fingers to her nose and whiffed. Then, she licked a dollop that had gathered on her thumb.

It tasted sweet.


	4. S Support

All day long, Panne had been preoccupied by her memories of Yarne’s nighttime visit. The sweet taste of his warm liquid still lingered on her tongue. She could still hear the echoes of his heavy, labored breaths as he panted her name.

While she had been lost in her thoughts, she had wandered into the woods that bordered their camp. She heaved a sigh of relief. Nature always set her at ease. The scent of fresh grass and the rustling of leaves always reminded her of her warren. Her memories were old and faded, but sometimes, if she meditated in the woods, she could almost remember the innate sense of security she had felt with her warren.

She found a spot beneath a sturdy oak tree, and lowered herself to the ground. The dew-coated grass felt cool and refreshing. Late afternoon sunlight trickled down through the branches, warming her fur. She shut her eyes, and let the distant twittering of birds lull her into a light nap.

…

“Mother.” The voice startled her awake. It was soft, but passionate. Her ears twitched at the underlying desire that punctuated the word.

Yarne was crouched in front of her, his face hovering mere inches away from her. She could not understand how she had allowed him to creep up on her. Had she let her guard down because she was in the forest? She chided herself for her carelessness.

The air was thick with a poignant aroma. It was a sugary scent that set all of her nerves on edge. She had never before encountered such a scent. It was heavy and intoxicating. Her head felt muddled, and her senses became dull and distorted, as though she was observing everything from underwater.

It was similar to how humans felt, after they drank themselves into an alcohol-induced stupor.

Yarne raised his hand. His fingers brushed against her cheek.

“What do you want?” Panne asked. Her voice was huskier than usual, but her tone was even. She was not angry with him or disgusted. She simply could not understand him.

“I want to protect our race,” he said, stroking her face with his thumb. His hand was warm, and somehow familiar. Panne leaned into his touch.

“Is that all?” She asked. Was she disappointed? Had she expected something more?

He moved closer, so that their noses brushed against each other. Panne was forced to stare straight into his fiery eyes. 

“Mother,” Yarne whispered. ”Panne.”

“Do not call me that,” Panne said, shutting her eyes. “Do not call me anything.”

They gave into their beastly urges, forgetting the nagging human voice in the back of their heads that scorned their actions. They allowed themselves to be pulled by their mutual attraction.

Yarne straddled her. He locked his lips around Panne’s, prodding the inside of her mouth with his tongue. 

Panne nuzzled his shoulder. It seemed that the strange scent had become stronger. Its sweetness filled her nostrils to the point that she could taste it.

Yarne slid his hands underneath Panne’s armor and massaged her breasts, caressing her nipples with his thumbs. His touch was gentle, yet greedy. His hands roamed her body, fondling every part of her.

Panne wedged her thigh between his legs and rubbed against his hardening penis.

Yarne ran his tongue down the length of her right ear. Panne moaned. Her ears were the most sensitive part of her body.

“Does that feel good?” Tarne asked before nipping her ear.

“Yes,” Panne purred. Her body ached with longing. This felt so good. It felt…natural. Even Yarne’s father had not been able to arouse her in such a way.

“I wanna do you as a Beast,” Yarne whispered. His breath was warm against the inside of her ear. In her current state, she could not find the power to deny him.

“Yes,” she repeated.

There was a blinding flash of white light as Yarne gripped his Beaststone and transformed. 

His penis was massive; Panne had expected his anatomy to change after he transformed, but she had not predicted such a drastic alteration.

It was had the dimensions of a small sword; it would fit, but it would not be an easy task. It had a downward curve, and twitched with anticipation.

“Turn over,” Yarne growled. Even his voice had changed. It sounded lower and gruffer. More animalistic.

Panne wavered, eyeing his massive penis. Should she stop this?

Yarne sensed her reluctance, and let out a low whimper. It was such a pitiful noise, and Panne found that she could not resist it. Despite all of their indulgent acts, Yarne was still her son, and she did not want to displease him.

She could feel guilt gnawing at her. In some distant future, she had abandoned her child, just as she had been abandoned. If she could do anything to ease his loneliness—the loneliness that she had caused—she would not hesitate to do so.

Panne turned over and lifted her pelvis towards Yarne. He angled his dick towards her, pressing his slick tip against her crotch. Panne felt a jolt of excitement course through her body. Something within her welcomed the sensation of Yarne against her, some primal impulse craved him.

Yarne eased himself inside of her, molding her into his shape. Panne gasped, gripping fistfuls of grass to keep herself from digging her nails into her own skin. The pain of being penetrated was eclipsed by an immense wave a pleasure as Yarne shifted inside of her.

Panne felt the tickle of his fur brush against her back. In her peripheral vision, she could see him place one clawed paw on either side of her. He was going to mount her. She mused that they must truly look like beasts in that position.

“It won’t all fit,” he muttered.

“It will,” Panne reassured him. “Keep going.”

Inch by inch, Yarne slid inside of her until there was no more.

Panne’s eyes glazed over. Her mind was devoid of all thoughts. She did not think; she only felt. She felt the heat emanating from him as he pressed his body against hers. She felt his tongue flick out and swipe across the nape of her neck.

When he was in Beast form, he was so much larger than her. Her pulse quickened as she remembered how he had gazed at her—as though she was prey. 

And now, he had snared her.

Yarne pounded into her with a flurry of quick, short thrusts. Panne panted. She wanted to feel him more. She tightened around his cock, and Yarne gave a small gasp.

He came, splattering her insides with semen. It was too much for her in this form, and it leaked out.

“Is that all?” Panne asked, regaining her senses. Though she did not know much about the mating behaviors of the Taguel, she knew that any human would be disappointed in his lack of endurance.

Without a word, Yarne started thrusting once more.

“Ah!” Panne exclaimed. She had not expected this. It seemed that with each piston, she was becoming more sensitive. “Slow down!”

Yarne did not relent. If anything, he increased his speed, breeding her with wild abandon. He began to lick her neck again, interspersing licks with playful nips at her ears.

“Yes, right there,” Panne sighed.

Abruptly, Yarne shifted his weight and they listed to the right. Now, they lay on their sides.

Yarne spread her legs apart, completely exposing her, and resumed his speedy thrusts. 

In this position, he was able to penetrate deeper. Panne could feel him ravaging the depths of her womb.

Panne picked up on the dull thump of feet against the ground. Someone was approaching.

“Do you hear that?” she murmured. “Someone is coming.”

Yarne said nothing.

Panne could hear voices. She detected a lower voice, then a slightly higher one said something in response. It appeared to be Chrom and Robin, discussing tactics for the next battle.

“Yarne, stop,” she whispered.

Like before, Yarne did not answer her.

The voices grew closer. Panne glimpsed movement, and watched the two figures approaching. They stopped a short distance away from them, on the other side of the tree. Thankfully, their backs were turned.

“Stop,” Panne hissed. Her command fell on deaf hears.

Yarne did not cease. He shoved his dick into her with the full force of an animal.

“They will see us!” Panne cried.

“Who cares?” Yarne licked the side of her face. “Let them know that you’re mine.”

The two figures continued to chat. If they happened to look over their shoulders, or shuffle a foot in either direction, there was no doubt that Panne and Yarne would be spotted.

They would see Yarne violating his mother. They would witness their hungry, beastly mating.

Panne could not suppress a moan.

“What was that?” Robin asked.

Chrom glanced around, “It sounded like some wild animal in heat. It is mating season, after all”

“It’s getting late. Perhaps we should return to camp?” 

Chrom seemed to accept Robin’s suggestion. The two of them departed back the way they came.

The adrenaline of almost having been caught had pushed both of them to their limits.

“I’m cumming,” Yarne grunted.

In tandem, they climaxed. Again, Panne felt the flood of hot semen coat her insides.

Yarne collapsed, reverting back to his regular form. Panne peered at him, and determined that he was merely exhausted. She imagined that it must have been draining to maintain that form for such a strenuous activity.

She rest a hand on her womb. With the amount of semen that he had funneled inside of her, Panne wondered if she would soon be with child. 

With a bemused grin, she muttered, “It seems that the Taguel race is far from extinct.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deleted Scene:
> 
> Panne reached around to her crotch and spread herself open with her fingers.
> 
> "Please," she begged, "Give me your thick carrot."
> 
> (It took every ounce of my willpower to NOT make carrot jokes.)


End file.
